Page 85 of Doozer

“Oh my god, seriously?” I squeaked, my eyes flooding with tears.

“Seriously,” he confirmed, wrapping his arms around me. “I have tentatively called them Sam and Molly, but we can change the nam—”

“Don’t you dare,” I said, bursting into a full-blown sobbing fest at the mention of my favorite movie characters. Particularly since Patrick Swayze was no longer on the earth, so in some ways, true life was imitating art which made things so much more bittersweet.

Doozer chuckled gently as he pulled me tighter against him. “So if I told you I may want to take up pottery, would you be up to that?”

“Stop it,” I blubbered out. “You had me at ‘fry.’ I can’t believe you remembered the correct term for baby fish.”

“I remember everything when it comes to you.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m figuring that out.”

He kissed me again, then dropped his forehead to mine. “You are so fuckin’ amazing, baby.”

“Back atya.”

“Thank you for Sam and Molly.” I turned back toward the fish tank, leaning down to get a closer look.

“You’re welcome.”

I faced him again, my eyes seeing nothing until I looked down to find him on one knee, holding up a diamond solitaire ring.

“Shut up!” I squeaked, slapping my hands over my face. “Get up.”

“Will you marry me?”

I slapped his arm. “No, get up.”

“No, you won’t marry me?” he challenged.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, but only if you get up off your knees.”

He slid the ring on my finger and finally stood, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re so lucky you said yes.”

I laughed. “Well, we’ve already signed our lives away with this house, so we’re already forever entwined. Probably a good idea to make it official.”

“I love being forever entwined with you, baby.”

“Me too,” I said, kissing him again.

The doorbell pealed and I pulled away from Doozer with a frown. “Who the hell is that?”

He grimaced. “The movers.”

“Movers? What movers?” I demanded. “We don’t have anything to move.”

“Ronnie and Jules did a little shopping.”

Jules was Wingman’s wife, and she was a ballbuster in the best of ways. Wingman was our very gruff, very scary enforcer with a heart of gold. Only, he didn’t show that heart to most people.

“No,” I breathed out.

“Yes,” he countered, releasing me, and heading for the door.

He pulled it open and Ronnie and Jules strolled in, followed by bikers carrying boxes and furniture.

“Glad you’ve got your clothes on,” Ronnie said, hugging Doozer, then me.

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